Why the Cannons?
by Oh So Cliche
Summary: Ever wonder why Ron likes the Cannons? Maybe because he feels the same. Unappreciated, unpopular, the underdog, and untalented. This fic is about that. And how Hermione sets him straight.


(Has anyone else ever wondered why Ron is so obsessed with the Chudley Cannons? All the books and fan fics describe them as the 'underdogs' and how they were sort of unpopular and hadn't won a championship in forever. (I can't find my Quidditch Through the Ages to know exactly how long) Well…I wrote a fluffy R/Hr fic about how, perhaps, Ron likes them because he feels the same. Unappreciated, unpopular, underdog, and untalented. And how Hermione sets him straight.

Thanks for reading, R&R please.

~Becca)

Hermione Granger sat in Ron Weasley's room, staring at all the different posters of the Chudley Cannons, waiting for Ron to come back from the bathroom. Harry had not yet arrived at the Burrow, but he would tomorrow, so Hermione and Ron hung out every afternoon in his room, talking about anything and everything. Occasionally, their talks would end in loud rows with both of them steaming at each other, but they'd always meet again the next day, talk it out, apologize and move on. But something was niggling at Hermione's mind. Something that Ron had said bothered her. She had asked him why he liked the Chudley Cannons so much, and he had replied, "Because they're like me. Not so special." Just then, Mrs. Weasley had called them down for dinner, so Hermione hadn't gotten a chance to reply.

Now she was waiting for Ron to come back to his room. She had stepped in and he wasn't there, so she had just plopped herself down on his bed as usual and looked around. She didn't like to think that Ron thought of himself as ordinary. Because he wasn't. Not to her.

The door opened and in stepped Ron , having to duck because he had grown another inch and the doorway of his room was now too short. He looked up and jumped back, clutching his chest.

"Bloody Hell! God Mione! You scared the hell out of me! Do you have to be so silent?" Hermione laughed.

"No, Ronnie, I don't. Watch your language. And again, please, it's Hermione." Ron smirked at the hated nickname but nodded.

"Fine, _Hermione_." He sat down on the bed next to Hermione and they both stretched out to their regular talking positions. Then there was silence. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, one of those you feel like you need to break, but a nice one. One you could just sit in for an hour and learn more about a person then if you were chattering like a bird.

This one didn't last an hour though, because Hermione wanted to know what Ron meant by what he had said the day before. "Ron?"

"Yes, Hermione?" Ron looked over at her, waiting for her question.

"Yesterday, when I asked you about the Cannons, you said they weren't so special. That they were like you. What did you mean?" She asked, not looking at him. She heard Ron sigh.

"I would've thought you knew Hermione. You _are_ the smartest witch in the school." Ron grinned lopsidedly. Hermione smiled in spite of herself. Ron always teased her about her intelligence but she took it in stride now, and just rattled off a few embarrassing facts no one else might now. That usually shut him up. She shook her head this time though and said,

"Well, it seems I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" Ron sighed again.

"Didn't I already tell you this? No? Alright. The Chudley Cannons were always my favorite team. I don't know why, but the fact that they were one of the underdogs and sort of unpopular appealed to me. I guess I identified with them, after all I'm the youngest boy in a poor family, least talented, so were alike in some ways. That's why Mione." He finished with a sigh. Hermione sat dumbfounded. Finally she could speak.

"Ronald. Weasley. Don't. You. Ever. Say. That. Again. You are NOT untalented, you are NOT unpopular. You mean the world to Harry and I and if you ever say any of those nasty things about yourself again, I'm going to have to pull a Moody and turn you into a white bouncing ferret. And it's _Hermione_. Got it?" Ron shook his head silently, staring at Hermione.

"You and Harry might care, and of course my family, but, I just, I dunno, don't feel…important." Hermione gaped. She took a deep breath and began to tell him off.

"Ron, besides my family, you are the single most important thing to me." She froze when she realized what she had told him, but she continued none the less. "If you self-depreciate one more time, I'm going to be forced-"she thought, "forced to do something I usually wouldn't." Ron's eyes seem to be deeper and a darker blue at these words.

"Like what?" he questioned, smiling slightly.

"I have no idea." Hermione answered truthfully, shivering at the look in Ron's eyes.

"Well then, let's find out… I hate myself. I hate my red-hair, my freckles and my height." This was said with just vehemence, Hermione had no choice but to believe it. The self hatred in his voice showed through and without thinking, she did something she would never usually do.

She kissed him.

A few minutes later, after they broke away from each other, Ron stared at Hermione, still smiling slightly.

"Guess I'm going to have to put myself down a lot more." Hermione glared at Ron.

"You'd better not." Ron blushed a little.

"Alright I won't," he paused, hardly believe what he was going to say, "as long as you never leave my arms." As if to show proof of this, he squeezed her gently.

Hermione's glare turned into a pretty smile and she blushed. "Alright. Though, I wouldn't leave them anyway." Hermione flushed further at her audacity. Ron just grinned his lopsided grin and pulled Hermione to him, so that her back was resting against his chest. They sat like that comfortably, occasionally kissing and commenting on miscellaneous things.

"Love you, Mione." Ron murmured into her ear before he dozed off. Hermione smiled.

"Love you too, Ron." and leaned back against him. She'd let the 'Mione' go, just this once.

(~el finito

R&R please.

~the Sage)


End file.
